A fugitive truth: an emma fielding mystery by Dana Cameron

Author:Dana Cameron [Dana Cameron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780060554620
Published: 2004-04-06T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“NOOO! LET ME GO!” I COULDN’T UNDERSTAND why I couldn’t move.

“Owww! My eye! Damn it!”

“She’s still out there!” Someone was holding me back. I fought to get loose. “In the water!”

“God’s bollocks!”

“I have to get out there!”

“Emma, wake up! There’s no one in the frigging water, damn it! You’re asleep!”

“The water! Meg!” There came a jolting realization that I wasn’t where I thought I was, and all the images that had been so real, so urgent, just a moment before, completely evaporated. I found myself in the hallway outside my bedroom trying desperately to hang onto the vanishing remnants of the dream, thoroughly confused, just a second too late to get the vital clue that I sensed waited for me.

Michael was gripping my right shoulder with one hand, pinning me hard against the wall outside my room with his forearm. He cupped his left eye with the other hand. It was the shock of his proximity and the sudden realization that he was naked from the waist up that really woke me up.

“You okay now?” Michael finally asked, not willing to move away until he was sure of me.

I swallowed and nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He smelled of clean sweat, warm sleep, and, unexpectedly, baby shampoo. He looked tired and scared, worried for me. It was nothing like his daytime mask of terminal ennui. I was still shaken from my nightmare, my heart racing like twenty. Certainly he must be able to feel it pounding, pressing so close. I became acutely aware of the fact that I had been trying to shove him away from me and that my hands were still on his bare, flat stomach. I could feel chest hairs curling under my fingertips that normally would have been concealed by a shirt and the omnipresent overcoat.

He hesitated, but as soon as he stepped back, releasing me, I fell forward, only keeping my balance by grabbing his arm. Again I realized that he was stronger than his usually careless posture would have suggested: I’d been struggling very hard.

As soon as I’d steadied myself, I pulled my hand away as though I’d touched a furnace, embarrassing us both. I realized I couldn’t just dive back into my room and hide, but neither could I speak yet.

“Where’s the light? God, my eye hurts! My poor glasses, I hope they’re all right. That’s some mean right you have.” After a moment, he found the hall light, then looked around. His glasses were on the floor a few feet away from us, and he picked them up, then he quickly scuttled into his room.

“What happened?” I asked, swallowing again.

“I thought you could tell me,” Michael called. He returned a second later, his overcoat tied closely about him. He paused, looking at his glasses. “Good, they’re not broken.”

He didn’t put them back on immediately, but smoothed out his tousled hair, collecting himself. “I was reading, nearly asleep, when I heard yelling, screaming, not to put too fine a point on it.

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